A Day In The Lab With Greg
by LittleGloriana
Summary: Greg spends a day in the lab after reporting late for shift. He ponders his future as a CSI and reconnects with an old friend. Pure fluff for Greg shippers with intro of an original character. No slash/Full cast. First in a series.
1. 01 No Nap Goes Unpunished

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place right before the Season 5 episode "Who Shot Sherlock?", before Greg's final proficiency as CSI Level 3. I've done it more as a journey inside Greg's head rather than a plot-based piece, and as the introduction for an original character I hope to use in future stories.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except my original character! I'm just playing in the CSI universe.  
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"Sanders!"

Greg didn't stir. He was dead to the world, stretched out upon the black leather couch in the secluded back storage room. Right leg extended down the length of the couch, left leg draped over the back of it. Right arm resting upon his chest, left arm draped over his brow to block out the light. His mouth was open wide as he inhaled short sucks of air with muted snorts, a string of drool trickling slowly down the side of his face.

Grissom was not pleased by this.

"Sanders!!" He shouted again, this time at a higher volume.

At once Greg curled up like a water bug and pulled a cushion over his head. He groaned and slurped the drool back into his mouth but he did not wake.

Grissom stared at him for a moment, then quietly walked out of the room. There was silence for a good thirty seconds before Grissom returned with a large copper hand bell. He strode up to the left side of the couch near Greg's head, lowered the bell just slightly, then shook it vigorously.

The hallways of the lab echoed with the clashing metal ring but, with the exception of a couple of lab rats sticking their heads out of doors, no one took much notice.

Greg, on the other hand, couldn't ignore it.

In a flash he started out of his sleep, flailed his limbs, then slid off the leather couch onto the floor.

Right on his ass.

Grissom stopped ringing the bell, crossed his arms down across his torso, and grinned with contentment.

"Was that really necessary?" Greg complained with a yawn as he rubbed his eyes, his messy brown hair sticking up at all angles atop his head.

Grissom pondered the question for a beat.

"No..." Grissom responded thoughtfully, offering his arm to assist Greg in getting off the floor, "It was just fun. People are always telling me I need to have more fun around here, so I had some".

"Scaring the crap out of me is fun for you?" Greg asked, dusting off his rear end with a few more yawns.

"Yes, when you're twenty minutes late for shift, I would say it is" said Grissom, pointing to the clock just outside the doorway.

Greg's eyes leapt to the clock, then down to his chunky wristwatch as if he could not believe what he saw in the hall and needed to confirm it. He screwed his eyes shut, winced, and looked exceedingly guilty.

"I'm sorry, I got here mega early and just thought I would come back here to chill out. Then I started thinking about the human genome project, and I was making all these chains in my head. I started dreaming, I was finding links between all these chromosomes and then I was figuring out the cause of _every_ disease known to man. I was freaking out in the dream because I couldn't find a pen to write it all down, like I was going to miss my chance to solve the mystery of life itself" Greg explained with sleepy awe, his dark eyes flitting between his imagination and the world right in front of him.

The corners of Grissom's mouth teased at a smile, but he remained sober.

"That sounds fascinating Greg, but you're still twenty minutes late for shift. What's that saying? You snooze you lose? Well, while you were snoozing dispatch came in with a male DB off Devon Highway; suspicious circs, possible homicide, the whole nine yards. Thought it might be a good case to cut your teeth on before next proficiency, but unfortunately you _and_ your teeth weren't there for assignment. I gave it to Catherine as a solo" Grissom told him, peering over the top rims of his glasses to stare Greg down.

Greg's face melted into an expression of the sincerest regret, the warden inside his mind taking a moment to karate chop his conscience before drop kicking his pride. His level three proficiency was going to be there before he knew it, and he had not forgotten the generous concession Grissom had already allowed when he'd bombed the hell out of his first one.

He had worked hard since then to show up on time, get more organized, to educate himself on every facet of the job even it meant working unpaid overtime to do so. His perfectionist tendencies had been sated with his performance too, almost to the point he was feeling ready to get a little cocky again, but the impromptu nap now threatened to ruin it all.

Greg knew he had to do damage control somehow, but he was still so tired. He thought of making a joke, he thought of defending himself by pointing out that he had technically been twenty minutes _early_ before the nap had occurred, he was tempted to find some way to blame David Hodges for all of it.

Then Greg remembered Warrick Brown telling him that being able to take personal responsibility for his actions was key in getting where he wanted to go, even if it meant a few tumbles back down the ladder here and there. Greg accepted that he had indeed screwed up by making a foolish choice and he made up his mind to own it completely.

He was going to accept the consequences too, no matter what they were.

"It was a dumb thing to do, I should have just sat in the break room with some coffee instead of laying down. It was irresponsible, it won't happen again" Greg professed with honesty, making a point to look Grissom in the eye.

Greg hoped Grissom might dole out his inevitable punishment without a guilt inducing speech of any kind, but his hopes were in vain.

"It's _your_ career Greg. I have high hopes for you, so does Catherine. So do Nick, Sara, and Warrick. We're all behind you, but if you keep stopping yourself in your tracks like this, no one is going to be around to keep pushing you. You've been doing great but if you screw it all up now, that's your _choice_" Grissom lectured without pulling any punches, giving a shrug that told Greg he was not in any mood to hold anyone's hand.

Greg nodded solemnly, feeling prickles on his skin which translated to shame. The only other person on the planet who had the power to make him feel that way was his own father.

"I understand. I really do" Greg offered, without resentment nor any whining.

Grissom sighed, shaking his head as he leafed through a couple of open case files. He studied a few different pages in a few different jackets, appearing to be making up his mind as he walked out of the room. Greg followed him into the hall with some yawns he tried hiding from view, tucking in his loose green slogan T-shirt and smoothing his hair down as best he could without a mirror.

"I _could_ give you a demerit on your next evaluation for this Greg, but your performance has been satisfactory up until today, I'm considering that. I'm sure I can think of a lighter punishment than a demerit" Grissom informed him, having a look into all the different laboratories with his discerning eyes as he turned the corner toward his office.

Greg wondered just what the _lighter punishment_ was going to be. Hearing such a thing from Grissom filled him with a certain dread, knowing the man had the capacity to be utterly diabolical when the mood struck him.

Greg followed Grissom into his office, watching as he sat down behind his desk with a quizzical look to end all quizzical looks. Greg waited patiently as Grissom took it in turns to examine the folders in front of him and study Greg as if sizing him up to see whether he would best fit on the rack or inside an iron maiden.

Greg was sweating, but only just.

"I want you in the lab today..." Grissom finally announced without any hesitation in his tone, "It's slow out there but there's still some overflow, you can help pick up the slack. Stick with DNA, I'll reassign you if I want you to make the rounds over to tox and trace".

Greg deflated like a slashed tire, but there was no way in hell he was going to argue. He knew Grissom could just let him be an official assist on one of graveyard's active cases in lieu of the primary investigator distinction, but he understood that would have been too light a reprimand.

"Yes sir" Greg responded respectfully, trying hard not to let his disappointment show.

Greg's mischievous side was tempted to ask Grissom whether his assignment had anything to do with the fact Ecklie had been bad-mouthing graveyard for their lag in recent weeks.

Behind Grissom's back Ecklie had played dumb about the overflow problem whilst simultaneously having one of his lackeys collect data on graveyard's output versus budget consumption. The overtime paid out to the techs on graveyard had been blamed for budget problems, and it had been Ecklie who suggested they hire some temps for that particular shift.

Grissom had argued that it was only a temporary solution to the problem, but once the big boys in charge heard Ecklie utter the phrase _"We'll be able to contract the temps without having to pay benefits"_, they were instantly sold.

It had been a headache for Grissom to oversee the training of temps, which were really no different than permanent techs when it came to the effort he had to expend making sure they had things right. There were only two in place so far; one to help Hodges in trace and one to assist Mandy in fingerprint analysis since they had been the two clocking in the most overtime. There was a rumor that a temp might be brought in for DNA, but Mia Dickerson had upped her game.

Greg could plainly see Grissom was capitalizing on the nap misstep by conveniently installing his last best DNA tech with his most recent best DNA tech.

While Greg still would have preferred to be searching garbage bins out in the field to another whole day of running DNA profiles inside the lab, he did feel there was some distinction in helping stick it to Ecklie.

"Tomorrow is another day" Grissom offered kindly, looking satisfied with his decision as he bit into a large apple.

Greg nodded, trying to look as dignified as possible while suppressing a massive yawn. He shook his head around to wake himself as he began to exit, but before he knew it he had walked straight into the wall.

He checked his nose for brokenness, looking back at Grissom sheepishly.

Grissom sighed.

"There's fresh coffee in the break room" He said, giving Greg a look of pity before returning to his desk work.

Greg offered a weak wave, trying to ignore the chuckles of his co-workers as he headed around the corner to the locker room.


	2. 02 Hodges & The New Temp

Greg lingered at the doorway of the locker room, and as he stared inside he felt a great need to page Bobby Dawson for assistance in putting a bullet into his head.

Hodges was sitting on the bench inside with that whimsical look on his face, his blue eyes staring off into some unseen distance. He looked smugly pleased about something, and Greg knew this meant he was just bound to get chatty.

Greg wondered if he could get away with working in DNA without a lab coat or his ID badge. He wondered if the reprimand received would be better or worse than hearing whatever confounding drivel Hodges was sure to throw at him if he took another step. Greg caught sight of himself in the reflective glass of a nearby window; ashen complexion, scruffy hair, dull eyes, and a fat red zit puffing up on his forehead.

He still wasn't completely convinced that Mia Dickerson would _never_ agree to date him, but he knew he would be greatly decreasing his chances if he decided to walk into the DNA lab looking the way he did.

Greg made the choice to bite the bullet instead of getting one through his skull.

"Sup Hodges" Greg said with as much friendliness as he could muster. He made a swift beeline for his locker, opening it up in one rapid motion and grabbing for his dark blue lab coat immediately.

"I love my job Sanders, I really do" Hodges responded somewhat mysteriously, folding his arms over his chest.

He looked at Greg expectantly.

Greg could feel the eyes of Hodges upon his back, and he rolled his own.

"Why's that?" Greg asked as he pulled the coat over his shoulders and retrieved his pair of worn brown high top sneakers. He sat down beside Hodges while changing his shoes, biting his lip as he struggled to undo a tight knot in the black laces of his boots.

Hodges pointed to a locker near the end of the row, one that had a small magnetic poster reading "Lab Rats Do It Better" in black block lettering set against a neon green background.

Greg looked at it for a moment, having no idea who it belonged to but not much caring. He was too busy fighting with the knot from hell to care.

"What about it?" Greg asked out of obligation, wishing Hodges would just get to the point without leaving him to ask questions.

"My new assistant in trace" said Hodges, almost wistfully.

Greg rolled his eyes again, and blew some air through his lips.

"Assistant? That's pushing it Hodges. Last I heard they were just bringing in a temp to pick up your slack"

Hodges face would usually morph into a well timed sneer at a comment like that, but at that particular moment he did not seem the least bit phased.

"She's a doll" Hodges said with unflappable conviction.

"Oh really?"

"Yes indeed. Cute too. Dopey....but cute"

"Dopey?"

"Yeah, you know, flighty. A little dusty in the attic"

"I know what it _means_ Hodges, I was just confirming you said it so I can _tell_ her you did when I meet her" said Greg, with a self satisfied look on his face.

He waited for Hodges to rankle, and he was not disappointed.

"Damn it Sanders, why do you insist on trying to sabotage every good moment I have in this place?" Hodges asked, a solid level three on the five point scale of annoyance.

Greg laughed out loud in spite of himself, finally freeing the laces of his boot with a grin.

"It's just this compulsion I have, the doctors haven't found a cure yet. Anyway, what about Mia? I thought she was your laboratory goddess?" he said, making a point to sound totally and completely serious even though he was basically just amusing himself at that point.

Hodges lost his irritable expression in an instant upon hearing that, staring off again with a dreamy mist in his gaze.

"Ah Mia, I have not forgotten our fair Mia. It's just good to know I have options" Hodges explained.

Greg shook his head as he tightened up the shoelaces on his sneakers and tied them. He found himself feeling begrudgingly glad he was having the conversation with Hodges. His tension was drifting away with every phrase exchanged, and he decided that he had to stop being so hard on the guy.

He had decided the very same thing at least twice before, but this time he was almost sure he meant it.

"You're a playa Hodges" he said affably.

"I know, I just can't help myself sometimes" Hodges replied, managing to sound facetious and dead serious at the same time.

"Just don't come on too strong, you've got to let her settle in first. You've gotta take her under your wing, form a bond with the lady. Be her go-to guy. Show your quality, dear Hodges, and she will show your hers" Greg told him with the wisdom of the ancients as he stood rubbing some fresh gel into his hair to make it behave in a more professional looking manner.

Hodges let out an emphatic sigh.

"I've got it _covered_ Sanders" He said as if he was growing weary of Greg's naiveté.

"Of course you do" said Greg.

Once he had his hair in place, Greg retrieved his clip on badge from its place upon the shelf. He let out a couple more yawns and did a few stretches in an effort to get some healthier looking blood flow into his face.

"She brought cookies for everyone by the way, homemade. They're in the break room" Hodges informed him, boasting as if he and the girl were cut from the very same cloth simply because she worked in the same department as he did.

Greg could hardly pay attention. The clock was ticking away and his eyes were locked on the door to Grissom's office, expecting the man to emerge with pointing fingers and the greatly feared look of disapproval on his face.

"Cookies for everyone? That sounds like ass kissing to me" said Greg with a shrug as he made for the exit.

"It's not ass kissing," Hodges called after him as Greg raced toward the DNA lab, "It's called _generosity_ Sanders, you might want to look it up".


	3. 03 Back In DNA

Greg stood in the far corner of the DNA lab with his back to the row of cabinets where he used to hide his expensive coffee, stash his girly mags, and store the secret drafts he'd written for his various book projects. Those cabinets were strictly utilitarian now, cold with nothing in them but boxes of latex gloves and disposable test tubes.

Gone was his beat up old boom box with the cassette player, in its place lay Mia's high end iPod dock with brushed aluminum speakers. Gone was the spare whiteboard on which he used to scribble naughty word puzzles for the daily amusement of his colleagues, gone were the Mulder and Scully action figures he had placed atop the storage shelves to watch over everyone. There wasn't much left to suggest Greg Sanders had ever been lord of that laboratory at all, save some remaining supply labels written in his messy script.

Greg hadn't planned to get nostalgic, it had just sort of crept up on him when he had started running profiles with Mia and found she had wasted no time in sanitizing the place to make it as clean and efficient as possible. It was her lab now, a fact which showed in how all the supplies were arranged in their proper places, in how all the surfaces were scrubbed to a sparkling shine, in how every single object in the room was sitting at a perfect right angle.

Greg was still getting used to his current incarnation as greenhorn field agent and still letting go of the former incarnation of himself as the Vegas crime lab's DNA mastermind. Hence he found it rather hard to submit to Mia's reign over what used to be his headquarters, though he was taking pains to suck it up and go with the flow.

Not that it made all that much difference to her.

"You had a system Greg, I respect that. But you took your system out of here and now I have _my_ system" she told him in a keenly controlled voice, taking note of the dates and times on new tissue samples while simultaneously checking the countdown clock on the DNA machine.

"Okay, well, just explain your system and I'll _roll_ right in there" Greg offered with energy, making a gesture that mimicked a ball player hitting one out of the park.

It just seemed to stress Mia out even more.

"Explain my system? I'm an INFJ on the Myers-Brigg type scale Greg, we have unique systems for exceptional efficiency but unfortunately we don't have any _explanations_ for them, sorry" She told him, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe Greg hadn't known.

Greg was not sure what he was supposed to do with that, and as he watched Mia wave him out of the way it occurred to him that he was probably on par with a house fly in her mind.

"How about I prep all the samples that need batch processing while you do all the singles?" offered Greg hopefully.

Mia stood using her long elegant fingers to sort through all the different submissions awaiting their run, her full lips mouthing silent calculations. Greg was not sure what she was busy figuring out inside her head but didn't feel the need to rush her as she looked particularly attractive when she was thinking hard. He was so sure there was some messy wild child in there somewhere, and he wished he could draw her out long enough to ask her to dinner.

"Hmmm, that might work actually. You could work through all of them at the back counter out of my way, it'll be like you're not even here" Mia told him, her face the most pleasant Greg had seen it since he walked in the door.

There was nothing in her tone to suggest she was intentionally trying to be mean at all, no sarcasm nor any bile. Greg understood she was just probably just relieved to think she could work the way in which she was most comfortable.

Not that it stung any less.

Greg felt something inside him roll up to give his ego a sucker punch as he beheld the beautiful woman who was at her most animated when thinking of ways she could render him as invisible as possible.

Mia pulled out a large plastic bin with hair samples that had come from a recent bar room brawl case, thrusting it into Greg's arms before walking off to fetch him some test tubes. Greg pouted a little bit to himself with a wounded roll of his eyes, but felt his mood improve a bit upon spotting the handwriting of Sara Sidle on the samples. A soft smile came over his face as he could never be too down in the dumps if he was doing something for Sara.

Once he was set up, he spent the next four hours in relative contentment filling the tubes with the requisite solvents and inserting them into the centrifuge. He shook off his frustration at being denied the stimulation of new challenges by reveling as much as he could in his temporary return to work at which he could excel with his eyes closed.

He even managed to pull ahead of Mia at one point, knocking out result after result until it would only be a matter of a few days before the graveyard DNA load would be up to speed.

If Greg could've had anything at that point it would have been some nice rollicking Ska music to serve as soundtrack for his satisfied mood, but he had to make due with the sounds of Mia's beloved Dvorak box set instead.

For awhile he enjoyed the soothing quality of the violins and cellos, up until they started to lull him into drowsiness. Then he started feeling stoned. When Greg mentioned the sleepy feeling and asked for something with a faster tempo, Mia defended her music by calling attention to the fact Greg had failed to eat for hours and was probably suffering low blood sugar.

Greg still thought her music was so sluggish it could put an amphetamine addled Chihuahua to sleep, but he couldn't deny she had a decent theory. His last sustenance had been the greasy breakfast burrito he'd wharfed down in the car on his way to work, and that had been more than five hours earlier. He instantly recalled Hodges mentioning his temp having brought homemade cookies for everyone, and so he set off toward the break room hoping there would be some left.

He came upon Henry the tox specialist sitting by himself at the small table in the middle of the lounge area with his eyes closed, chewing in ecstasy. He held what looked to be a half eaten biscotti, clutching it inside a closed fist as if it was giving him his very life force.

Greg's eyes darted over to a large aluminum platter sitting atop the counter, a platter which had been pilfered of most of its contents save a few intact specimens. Greg rushed over like he expected a pack of his co-workers to descend upon it like wolves any moment, snatching up two of the five remaining biscotti cookies and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"You've gotta try these Sanders, they're so good I might beg Hodges to break down the chemical comp so I can have the recipe" Henry told him, taking another small bite and chewing it slowly.

"Why not skip the middle man and just ask the girl if you can have it?" Greg inquired, digging into the back of the fridge to retrieve the leftover half of jerk chicken sandwich he'd stashed there a day earlier.

"I did, she said it's one of those guarded family secret things. I said I was surprised her whole family isn't dead because I think it's a recipe worth killing for...but...I don't think she thought that was funny. I have to get better at kidding" explained Henry, with honesty that was nearly heartbreaking.

Greg gathered up his food and his coffee, snagging a banana to round out his meal. He sat down with Henry, deciding to eat dessert first as he was eager to see if the praised biscotti lived up to the hype.

One bite and Greg could clearly see it did.

"This is crazy good" Greg remarked with awe, taking cue from Henry and savoring each chew.

"No, it's _insanely_ good. I think they're even better than my Mom's peanut butter snaps and you don't even wanna _know_ how guilty I feel about that" Henry confessed with a slight bulge of his eyes and a shake of his head.

"You know why it's so good? No synthetic chemicals or preservatives. This is _salt of the earth_ right here" fawned Greg, wondering if a dunk into his coffee would enhance the experience or just dull it.

As Greg enjoyed the delicate flavor of anise and the pleasant crunch of toasted pistachios, he got the distinct feeling he'd tasted those very same cookies before. He knew one's sense of smell provoked memories more easily than taste, sight, or even hearing and so he brought the treat up to his nose for a sharp inhale.

A flash of a memory popped into his head immediately but it was foggy, like it was trapped behind some wall in a dark alcove inside his mind. He sniffed repeatedly, trying to force the memory out into clarity but it would not come. There was some visceral sensation of California, but he could not tell if it was from home, from Stanford, or from some family trip. He got the distinct impression that it was a face he might be trying to recall, and he found himself wondering what Hodges temp actually looked like.

He screwed his eyes shut tighter trying to focus all his energy on the scent. The memory seemed to start emerging from its hiding place and Greg thought he was just on the brink of seeing it when something jumped in to derail his train of thought.

That something was named Sara Sidle.


	4. 04 An Interesting Break

"You _are_ aware that's a biscotti and not a cigar, right Greg?" she asked teasingly, sitting down with her own cup of coffee.

Greg grinned as he opened his eyes, pleased to see Sara grinning back with equal vigor. She was wearing her thin brown sweater with the open collar and a pair of khakis, one of Greg's very favorite outfits on her.

"Yes, I _am_ aware of that Miss Sidle. This just reminds me of something, I was trying to figure out _what_ with my olfactory senses" he told her like a professor imparting knowledge to a student.

"Interesting. Maybe it reminds you of, I don't know..., biscotti?" offered Sara with a slight flit of mischievousness in her brown eyes.

"You may have something there..." Greg responded with good nature, flashing Sara his best charming grin as he continued to eat, "But it's too early to tell for sure".

"Hodges temp made those, best thing that's been in here since Archie brought those glow-in-the-dark cupcakes. Are you gonna try one Sara? Because if you're not I'm taking those last three" said Henry, his eyes wandering over to the counter.

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but Greg cut in first.

"Hanko you greedy miser, I'm surprised at you" Greg reprimanded, though in truth he'd thought about doing the very same thing.

"What? I don't care, it's a dog eat dog lab and it's every dog for himself. Or _her_ self" Henry said, throwing Sara a conciliatory glance to acknowledge her.

Then he seemed to turn a bit pale.

"Not that you're a dog at all. I didn't mean it that way. You're really pretty. I just meant--"

"It's okay Henry, I got it" Sara reassured him with a suppressed grin, crossing the room to scoop up the last three cookies, handing two of them off to him as she sat back down.

"Sweet!" Henry exclaimed happily, wrapping them in a napkin before dropping them both into the large pocket of his lab coat. His grin didn't falter once as he exited the break room with a bounce.

"Wow, do these things have MDMA in them or something?" Sara asked, observing Henry's jovial stride down the hall as she took her first bite.

"We're not sure, but it's in the realm of possibility" Greg told her, secretly thrilled to be sitting alone with Sara, as he always was on the rare occasions it came to pass.

Greg watched Sara's reaction, surprised to see her eyebrows furrow and her lips turn into a frown as if she might cry.

"You don't like it?" he asked in a dumbfounded tone.

"No, it's not that. This is awesome. I just can't believe I gave away the other two I had" Sara told him with a trickle of grief.

Without so much as a bat of his eyelashes, Greg slid his other cookie across the table for her to take as her own.

Sara dropped her head to the side, her expression soft with a guilty sort of appreciation. She regarded him with sparkly disbelief for a moment, before breaking the cookie in half and sliding one of the halves back to Greg.

"Even Steven" she said simply.

Greg felt so fluttery in the head he could have passed out, but he contained himself in the interest of having a conversation without any stuttering or drooling getting in the way.

"Grissom told me you've been condemned to the lab all day, what did you do?" Sara inquired, crunching a big bite of her cookie before taking another sip of coffee.

Greg sighed.

"I fell asleep in the back before shift, twenty minutes late" Greg confessed with renewed guilt, thinking he felt worse telling Sara about it than he did getting caught by Grissom in the first place.

"Errggh, not good Greggo. Why is it you always pull that kind of thing right before you're all set to advance? Do you have some kind of latent self destructive side or something?" Sara asked, but Greg could not tell if her question was rhetorical.

He had never really thought about it before, but upon doing so he could see some weight to the idea.

He _could_ recall doing that more than a few times throughout his history, before chess tournaments and big chemistry finals in college. He would work himself ragged toward his goals, but once they were in sight he often found himself compulsively doing things that were tantamount to sabotage.

Greg thought this was something worth taking a harder look at, but he was certain he didn't have time just then. He made a mental note to get to it later.

"It was just a nap. I didn't get much sleep yesterday, I had to do laundry" Greg explained with a shrug, as if laundry was universally accepted as being one of the most time consuming jobs anyone ever had to do.

"You have to stay on the ball Greg, Ecklie's coming down hard and now the legal eagles from accounts are sniffing around. Grissom rallied hard to get you the key position, don't make him sorry he did" Sara advised with her usual frankness, her eyes both hard and genuinely concerned at the same time.

Greg gave a nod of acknowledgement, meeting Sara's gaze without flinching.

He was flattered by her genuine interest, but he felt a sting hearing the undercurrent of doubt in her voice. He struggled to figure out whether or not his misstep really was indicative of a bigger problem in his quality as a CSI or whether people were just making a mountain out of a molehill.

His mother had always been the driving force of unconditional love in his life when it came to his academic and professional career, but his father had been the juggernaut of discipline. Greg was very much used to his father alerting him to stretches where he was flagging too much, so used to it that it had been a challenge to learn how to spot those moments himself. He was getting the hang of it as the years went on, but it was still tricky.

He felt the urge to discuss it more in depth with Sara because, more than anyone else he worked with, he considered her to be his friend as well as his colleague. It was on the tip of his tongue, but in the end he held back in the interest of not feeding the doubts she already had about him.

"So you and Warrick are handling that sports bar throw down? I heard one guy got a _boomerang_ through his noggin" said Greg, changing the subject before he started making confessions he didn't really want to make.

Sara finished the last of her cookie with a rather disinterested shrug of her shoulders. She slapped some crumbs from her hands and rose to her feet.

"Yeah, it was one of those chotchkies they have all over the walls in those places. Some guy had an altercation with his girlfriend at the bar, some other guy and his crew got in the middle, then all hell broke loose. Someone just tore it down and threw it. Probably didn't realize the thing is like the Ginzu knife of boomerangs" Sara explained, refilling her coffee and picking at the crumbs left on the biscotti platter.

"Well, that sounds like an open and shut case. Boomerangs come back to whoever throws 'em, right? Who was holding it when the uniforms got there?" Greg asked, his brown eyes bright with playful animation.

Sara pursed her lips, trying to hide her smile.

"Very funny Greg, I _wish_ it was that simple. We've narrowed it down to three suspects, Warrick has his eye on the girlfriend's sister but we need the DNA back on those hair samples for a better idea" she said, walking toward the door.

Greg looked down at his watch.

"I processed those a few hours ago, Mia should have the results ready for you by now" Greg told her with pride.

"Great. And hey, no more napping!" Sara said with a point of her finger as she began moving in the direction of DNA.

A particular thought darted back into Greg's head and he called after her.

"Wait, wait! Did you _meet_ the temp in trace yet by any chance?" Greg asked before Sara disappeared completely.

"Briefly, why?" she asked, massaging a temple with her free hand.

Greg didn't have a direct answer to that question, so he moved on.

"What's her name?"

Sara stood with her eyes pointed upward into her forehead as she scanned her memory banks. She opened her mouth with a few false starts for a name, but in the end she just shook her head.

"I forget, I'm not even sure if she told me" she said regretfully.

Greg thought maybe he should leave it at that, but for reasons he couldn't explain he wasn't content to do so.

"What does she look like?" he asked, head tilted to the side as he awaited her answer.

Sara grinned.

"Awe, are you gonna fall in love with the cookie girl Greg?" she asked like someone asking a child if they drew that picture on the fridge without any help from a grown-up.

Greg narrowed his eyes in Sara's direction and pursed his lips.

"No, I'm just _curious_.I'm _supposed_ to be curious. Besides, you know you're the only one for me" Greg explained with a wink.

Sara sparkled though she definitely didn't seem to be buying that explanation completely.

She humored him all the same.

"Let's see,...long brown hair, little shorter than me. She's got those see-through kind of eyes too, like Warrick's except hers are hazel instead of blue. Seems pretty nice. That enough?"

Greg visualized the rough description in his head, disappointed to realize it could fit any number of girls he'd met in his life or none at all.

"Yeah, thanks" Greg said with appreciation, still rolling through the index of faces in his head.

"No problem" Sara replied as she walked away.

Greg knew the only choice he had left was to walk down and see the girl for himself. He felt a sense of hesitation and it was very odd to him. There was a certain eerie feeling in the back of his mind, like something was sneaking up on him from behind a door.

Greg scarffed down the rest of his food in record time, wiping his mouth impatiently when he was finally through. He dumped off all the garbage, then he followed Henry's earlier example by wrapping up the last half of the biscotti before slipping it into the pocket of his lab coat for later enjoyment.

He checked his watch, then double checked it, to make sure he had enough time for one more social visit before returning to work. He had fifteen minutes exactly, and he felt secure it was all he would need.

He made his way toward the trace lab brimming with curiosity, but all of a sudden he stopped in his tracks with a strange urge to just return to DNA without investigating at all.

It wasn't fear that held him back, it was almost the same feeling he got when he put off reading the end of a good detective novel to prolong the pleasure he felt when considering all the many possibilities. He stepped slowly, trying to decide whether he wanted to indulge his curiosity or just take the weird aura of anticipation home with him when he left.

Then, as he was creeping past the fingerprint analysis laboratory, he heard his name being mentioned.

It was the unmistakable voice of Hodges, and it made Greg's snarl reflex kick in like the snap of a rubber band. He never did get the knack of eavesdropping without feeling a pang of guilt for it, but it never did stop him either. He eased himself over to the doorway and hung around outside of it as if he was just studying the alerts and messages posted upon the bulletin board. He pricked up his ears, and Hodges came through loud and clear.

"You know what I mean though, Sanders leaves the lab and now here's another one running right in to take his place" Hodges said with frustration.

"I still _do not_ know what you mean" came the slightly sardonic voice of Mandy Webster, the fingerprint tech.

Greg heard Hodges take a deep breath before continuing.

"Look, I can _handle_ a Sanders working in DNA, or with Archie, or with you. Basically anywhere else besides _my_ lab I can deal with a Greg Sanders. _In_ my lab though? Having to _train_ a Sanders? Having to _work_ with a Sanders day in and day out? Can you blame me for being stressed?" Hodges droned with a decibel of vexation in his voice that did not seem to befit the situation.

Mandy seemed to know it too.

"Don't be an ass Hodges. Three hours ago you told me the girl is a dream to work with, _and_ a quick study, and now you're turning on her? Look, the bottom line is that just because she went to Stanford _with_ Greg Sanders doesn't mean _she is_ Greg Sanders" Mandy responded in a firm tone with a breathy sigh at the end.

Greg felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle up as what seemed like a million thoughts and images starting spinning around his brain in a chaotic little whirlwind. He knew the puzzle was coming together, he just had to bear it until his mind plucked out the correct pieces.

_Lab rats do it better. _

_Eyes like Warrick's except hazel. _

_Pistachio biscotti_

_Stanford. _

Then, like the final barrel dropping into place after safe cracking, a name finally appeared before his mind's eye.

_Sorrensen._


	5. 05 Blast From The Past

"You okay sport? You look like you've just seen a ghost" Nick Stokes remarked whilst reading over the DNA profiles he had been waiting for since the previous day.

Greg shook himself out of his messy thoughts of Stanford, taking care to steady his hand as he dropped swab heads into the test tubes before him.

It had been an hour since his eavesdropping incident in the hallway, and he hadn't even bothered getting annoyed at Hodges. He had been too distracted with finding a place to hide until he could get his head around the fact Nina Sorrensen was walking around in his lab somewhere.

Greg had retreated back to the comforting corners of the DNA lab to continue processing, crossing his fingers Grissom wouldn't yank him out of there to be tossed into trace.

Not until he had decided he was good and ready at least.

"Dude?" Nick asked with a grin, waving his hand around in front of Greg's face.

"Yeah, sorry, what?" Greg blurted out, feeling disoriented by the influx of so many memories he hadn't dusted off in a long time.

"You okay? You're not beating yourself up over that nap thing are ya? Grissom'll put you back out there tomorrow, don't worry. I remember one time before my second proficiency I had a date that went on _way_ longer than I expected. I showed up here without a shower, no sleep, lookin' like hell. Griss shoved me down in storage to organize all the cold case evidence while Warrick got to assist on this big drug sting, just to teach me a lesson. So believe me, you coulda got worse. All I'm sayin' is don't spend too much time kicking yourself about what's already done, just think about how much better you're gonna do tomorrow"

Nick finished his friendly speech with a light slap to Greg's shoulder, looking at him expectantly.

Greg understood the point but it was information overload. He interpreted Nick's words and shoved them into the back of his mind. He chose to hone in on what he saw to be the most relevant statement out of everything Nick said and just roll with it.

"Who told you I was napping?" he asked with suspicion.

"Catherine" Nick answered.

"Way-way-wait, Catherine? Who told Catherine?" Greg inquired in disbelief.

"No idea..." Nick shrugged, circling a few key results upon the page in his hand before slipping the report into the appropriate case file, "Did you hear what I said?"

Greg was in no mood for more lecturing, he felt he'd had enough to last a whole week crammed into just one day. He kept his cool, gritting his teeth as he dropped the swab head samples into the centrifuge.

"I heard you, wipe the slate clean instead of staring at the scratch marks on it, blah blah blah. I took philosophy man, I get it" Greg snapped in his subdued way, barely bothering to pick up his feet as he plodded back over to his table. He plopped back down on the stool, and sighed.

"What is _up_ with you bro?" Nick asked, slightly exasperated but smiling all the same.

Greg had another batch of swabs awaiting him, but he calculated he could steal a good five minutes for undiluted conversation without catching hell for it.

"Let me ask you this. You ever had a friend who was a really close friend but also kind of like your rival? Then, say you went in different directions after college and didn't keep in touch with her...or him....and then that friend sort of reappeared without warning and you didn't know if that friend would be really pissed off at you?" Greg rambled, pulling off his gloves with a snap.

Nick just gawked at him.

"What? You're tossin' hypothetical gibberish at me man, cut to the chase" he said, rolling a stool out from underneath a table to sit upon.

Greg rubbed the residual glove talc between his fingers for a few seconds, his face looking as if he'd just found a cockroach in a salad. He gave another long sigh, trying to form his scattered thoughts into ones that were more precise.

"Okay look,..." Greg offered in a hushed tone, craning his neck to make sure no one was lurking outside the DNA lab the way he'd been lurking outside the fingerprint one, "You know that new temp down in trace?".

"Yeah, Nina right? She's a peach" Nick replied, taking a quick glance down at his phone to check for new messages.

Greg hadn't expected Nick to call her a peach and it threw him for a moment. It was difficult for him to accept the thought of figures from his present life having the ability to mingle with figures from his past. It did not want to compute in Greg's head that he himself had not seen Nina in seven years but somehow Nick Stokes had seen her that very day.

He shook it off as best he could, and continued.

"Right, yeah, Nina. Now, I went to _Stanford_ with her man, she was part of this group we had called the Stanford Chem Lab Brigade, or the SCLB to those cats who were in the know. Anyway, we were all pretty tight, Sorrensen and I were pretty close--"

"How close? Like, boyfriend girlfriend close?" Nick asked, his interrogation skills showing in his conversational style.

"No, no, nothing like that. I mean, I saw her in her _underwear_ a bunch of times but that was only because she couldn't hold her liquor. She wasn't a drinker but when she _did_ drink, she'd just get _hammered._ Every single time she'd eat raisin bran and yak, and somehow it was always _me_ who got stuck cleaning her up. And let me tell you that girl could _yak_, talk about high velocity spatter..." Greg recalled with some quiet laughter, realizing all too late that it was just one of those stories that _did_ not and _could_ not mean much to anyone who hadn't been there at the time.

He noted Nick's awkward looking expression, then he saw fit to move right on past it.

"_Anyway,_ you know, we were friends. But man, this girl, she was always ambushing me. Two times in a row she usurped my grade point average just in time to come in higher on the Dean's list, I swear she planned it. She was a good one for pulling these huge projects out of nowhere to win these _coveted_ science prizes I really wanted--"

"Oh I get it, I get it. So she let you know she was _just_ as smart as you and let me guess, you didn't _like_ that" Nick interjected as if his statement wasn't really up for debate at all.

Greg let out yet another sigh, this one mixed with a hint of a groan.

"No, that's _not_ it. She could just be a human _steamroller_ sometimes,...you had to be there. So after college I went to New York and she went off to Africa and I don't know, we just didn't keep in touch. Or...I didn't. Now she's here and I don't know. I don't know if she's _pissed_, or if she's _not pissed_, and I'm not even sure if I'm glad she's here, but _maybe I am._ I don't know, it's just....complicated" Greg said woefully.

"I see that" Nick nodded, covering his grin with his hand, "Look Greggo, my advice? Just _go down_ to trace and say hi. Catch up, have a chat, see what the status quo is. Or, if you want, you could take a few more naps until Grissom banishes you to scrubbing toilets for the rest of your life and seeing her won't be an issue".

Greg furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

"I _am_ good at scrubbing" he said.

Nick rose from his stool, instinctively checking his phone again as he slipped his case files under his arm. He let out a laugh with another shake of his head, looking at Greg with eyes that said _"You're killing me man"_ without any words being necessary.

"Just go down there, will ya? Quit complicating things that don't need to be complicated" Nick told him, giving Greg a hefty closed fist nudge to his shoulder before walking off, chuckling to himself all the way out the door.

Greg blew some air through his lips again and let his head drop to the table with a thud. He felt something gnawing away at his abdomen, the discomfort that came when past and present collided.

He hadn't written Sorrensen off because of any hard feelings or resentment, it was one of those things that just sort of happened when he wasn't looking. He remembered a series of emails from her just sitting in his mailbox awaiting reply for months, but there had always been something else which had to come first.

Once those emails were officially a year and half old, he had deleted them. Same thing with the phone messages, he had kept them in his voicemail box for awhile until it seemed to make no sense to reply. His priorities had just sped ahead like a runaway train after college and so many things tumbled down the list, communication with old friends being one of them.

He had lost touch with a lot more people than just Sorrensen, but losing touch with her made him feel exceedingly guilty. The truth was Greg couldn't come up with a single viable reason it should have happened. He'd thought that very same thing before and just let it go, never expecting the girl would wind up materializing in his workplace out of nowhere one day.

Greg knocked his head against the table a few times, then clasped his hands behind his head. He let out a few muffled groans, then sat back up with a sharp inhalation of air. He cocked his eyebrow and peered around the room out of the corners of his eyes, just for the hell of it.

Greg stole a glance at the fancy digital clock Mia kept on Greenwich time, knowing he would have to do another solid two hours of uninterrupted work before he could justify another break. He felt more than a little relieved.

Then, before he knew it, the two hours had passed and he felt antsy again.

"Why don't you take a break?" Mia said out of the blue, using her tweezers to carefully handle a particularly tiny tissue sample.

"I'm good" Greg replied in a flash, gritting his teeth, wondering why everyone seemed so hell bent on pushing him around that day.

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Take a break Greg" Mia said in a monotone without even looking at him.

Greg looked hurt.

"Why?" he asked, his dark eyes slightly rounded.

"Because _I_ need a break. From your humming" Mia told him.

"What, it's classical. You like classical." Greg protested with a slight pout of his lips.

"I do, but you've been humming Ode To Joy for _an hour_" she said.

Greg shrugged.

"I can switch it up, how about Toccata En Fugue?" he offered, launching right into humming it without waiting for Mia's reply.

He hummed with dramatic flare, doing his best impression of the phantom of the opera. He stiffened his posture and pretended to lurch over a pipe organ, curling his fingers to appear gnarled as they struck invisible keys. His voice broke a little bit when he got to the climax of the piece but he wasn't bothered. Once finished, he looked at Mia as if awaiting his standing ovation.

Mia was frozen in place, her arm hanging in midair with her solvent wand in hand, her upper lip drawn back on one side.

"Yeah, you need a break" she said authoritatively, knitting her brow as she continued her task.

Greg snapped off his gloves feeling defeated, hopping down off his stool before tossing them into the biohazard bin. He pumped some antibacterial fluid into his hands as he grumbled silently to himself, making faces Mia did not even see.

"I'm _going_, but I have to tell you, it's your loss. Now you'll never get to see my Tony award winning performance of Swan Lake" he taunted like he felt exceedingly sorry for her, rubbing his hands together with vigor.

"Shame" Mia told him, trying her best to humor him but betraying an undertone of impatience all the same.

Greg got the hint, pulling more faces as he used his back to open the door into the hall. He felt exposed as soon as he was out, feeling shocked out of his refuge. He caught sight of Catherine rushing around with a case file in her hand whilst having a very intense discussion with Archie from audio visual. He found himself envying her apparent stress level, wishing he was the one running around working hard on a hot case.

He thought of Sara and Warrick with their boomerang of death, he thought of Nick and his case of the suspicious pimp brought in on assault charges. He thought of Grissom holding court over it all, having the freedom to come and go as he pleased without any micromanaging getting in the way. Greg traipsed down the hall with his hands thrust in his pockets, feeling like his anxiousness to get his hands into the muck and mire of the field was going to eat him alive.

His thoughts turned once again to Sorrensen, wondering if she was going to pop out at him at any moment. He lingered hesitantly about ten feet away from the trace lab, leaning against the wall. He envisioned himself walking through the door to see her, and a pocket of energy burst open in his chest. It reminded him of the feeling he got just before take-off on an airplane or the feeling he got when his carriage was cresting the hill on a rollercoaster.

A massive, nervous sort of grin spread across his face seemingly of its own accord. He couldn't help himself; he heard himself laugh and then he grabbed at his smile with his hand. The idea that he was about to see Sorrensen after seven years was just too crazy to comprehend.

He crept up over to the open entranceway into trace, ducking down just slightly as he peered inside Magnum P.I. style.

There was Hodges, his shoulders back, his hands folded behind him giving a firm lecture as if he were a key note speaker standing before a transfixed audience. He spoke of proper procedure for paging CSIs and detectives, of respectful tones of voice, of how to explain things to the non-scientist population of the lab in ways that would not make them feel small for having a handicap in the areas of chemical based academia.

Greg rolled his eyes so hard he almost got a glimpse of the back of his skull, and he inched forward a few steps to see who Hodges was currently torturing.

And there she was.


	6. 06 Saying Hello

Greg's eyes darted around to every inch of her, trying to reconcile the image of the Sorrensen he knew at college to the Sorrensen that was sitting there not ten feet away him in the present tense.

Gone was her shoulder length cut of electric blue curls, instead she wore what he assumed was her natural color of chestnut in a loose ponytail of messy waves down her back. Her heart shaped face was still predominantly porcelain, but now there was a flush of color from the sun in the apples of her cheeks where there used to be only white. Her body had changed as well, she still had the same tiny frame as she always did but in place of her former roundness there were plenty of curves.

Her lip piercing was gone, as was the stud in her nose, but he could not ascertain whether or not she'd dropped the navel piercing as well. The dark purple lipstick, the silver eye shadow, her long sleeves with the holes cut in the cuffs for her thumbs to go through,... all gone. The only traditionally Nina Sorrensen thing left on her was the metallic nail polish, but now it was a demure shade of pink instead of shocking chartreuse green.

It was really her, looking glued to her seat across from Hodges wearing a dark blue lab coat that matched his own, with an honest to goodness Las Vegas crime lab badge on her lapel. He did a double take, wishing there was someone around him that could understand how unbelievably weird it was to see _Nina Sorrensen_ in the same exact physical space as _David Hodges_.

It was blowing his mind.

He chewed at the tip of his finger as he watched her being trapped under the unstoppable force of Hodges' speech making. He saw her sitting there straight spined and attentive, nodding respectfully with a cheerful expression as she listened to Hodges drone on about how much everyone in the lab respected his methods and how far she could go if she was wise enough to follow suit. Greg had not seen in her in so long, and so he was surprised at how well he could still read her face.

Outwardly she was all gracious appreciation, but the little golden sparkles in her eyes betrayed signs she was more than a little dumbfounded at what she was being subjected to. All in all, she did appear genuinely entertained.

When Hodges averted his gaze to a print out of pager numbers, Greg saw her raise her hand to her mouth and he instantly recognized it to be her guilty suppression of laughter.

Greg crossed his arms over his chest as he beheld the little spectacle taking place before him, letting the sight of Sorrensen 2004 really sink in.

Hodges bent over to retrieve another list of important phone numbers from the shelf beneath the counter, and Nina turned her head toward the hallway as if looking somewhere for rescue.

That's when her eyes finally fell upon him.

Greg felt all of his vertebrae liquefy in relief when he saw that her eyes lit up instead of clouding over with ire. She smiled, and gave a stiff wave like she was afraid to get caught goofing off by her superior. Greg responded with a wave of his own, then he pointed at her with two finger guns and a big open mouth grin.

Hodges stood back up and Nina's attention went directly back to him as he used a fancy silver pen to show her all the people that really _mattered_ around the lab. He made a point to circle Grissom's pager number repeatedly before writing "DAVID HODGES ONLY" beneath it. She bit her bottom lip when Hodges put his head up again, as he muttered about how much Grissom preferred getting results directly from him whenever possible.

Hodges walked over to the corner to retrieve a list of alert codes for her, and she turned to Greg mouthing the words _"Help me"_ with cheeks flushed so pink Greg understood she was in great danger of bursting out into uncontrollable laughter at any moment.

He knew then, that he had to save her.

Greg sauntered into the lab with intention, heading straight for Nina. She was about to rise to meet him when Hodges headed back to the table. Upon seeing this, she plonked her ass back down in her seat like an anvil hitting concrete.

"What can I do for you Sanders?" Hodges inquired with what sounded like bravado, turning back to Nina with a wink of his eye.

"Won't be a second" Hodges assured her.

"I was just on break, heard that my old Stanford buddy was down here, wanted to say hello" Greg explained, feeling a rush of comfort hearing himself say _Stanford buddy_ so easily.

"Oh, right. Go ahead, then I'm sorry but we have to get back to orientation" Hodges said with authority, tapping his finger on the list of alert codes.

"There's _lots_ of orientation" Nina told Greg with an animated expression as if she were extremely pleased, only the tiniest note of sarcasm sneaking up at the back.

Her voice was the same as it ever had been, singsong and airy, coming from her throat with just the slightest rasp to it. Greg liked hearing it again, like an album he hadn't put on the stereo in awhile.

"Actually, I was hoping I could steal her for a little while" He told Hodges before turning his head back in Nina's direction.

"When's your next break?" he asked.

"Uhhhh, not sure. I didn't even have my lunch yet" Nina told him, looking to Hodges as if asking for approval.

Greg's head turned toward Hodges in slow motion, accusatory brown eyes staring from beneath one cocked eyebrow.

"No lunch yet? _How_ many hours has she clocked so far?"

Hodges betrayed himself with a self conscious clearing of his throat, but in usual form he just shrugged it off as if it was nothing.

"It's been a long day, a lot of things to go over..." Hodges said, nodding like a bobble head, "It just slipped my mind I think".

Nina looked extremely excited again, this time for real.

"So it's cool if I go?" Nina confirmed with respect, already sliding out of her seat as she pulled off her gloves.

"Sure, sure. We'll pick up where we left off later. Enjoy" Hodges replied to her, giving Greg an obligatory half-sneer before turning his attention to a small box of bindles on the cart beside him.

Nina was all aglow upon getting to her feet, walking past Greg with a stride reminiscent of a child still wanting to rush somewhere after being told not to run in the halls. Greg followed behind her with a similar stride, both of them taking pains to look casual until they were out of Hodges sight.

As they cleared the trace lab, Greg was contemplating just how to start a conversation with her after seven years. He thought of asking her what she had been up to, he thought of asking her how she was, he thought of simply starting by telling her it was nice to see her.

He needn't have bothered.

Nina grabbed Greg's sleeve and pulled him into an empty conference room out of sight. Once inside, she proceeded to wrap her arms around his midsection in a huge bearish hug, letting loose a girly giggle that emanated straight from her chest.

"Sanders you cheese doodle! I've been hoping to see you all day, I just about _wet my pants_ when I found out you work here!" she exclaimed with unabashed glee.

Greg fed right off the excitement in her hug, it was easy for him to do.

His worries about potential awkwardness suddenly seemed so utterly stupid as he locked his arms around her head with easy laughter, to Greg it almost felt like seven years hadn't passed after all. The halls of the lab seemed like they could just as easily be the halls of Stanford, like he could be hugging her in triumph after finals or after pulling off a brilliantly executed practical joke on one of their old cohorts.

Their hug turned into a kind of dance, the two of them rocking side to side as they rotated in a circle. Greg messed up her hair on sheer instinct, and he was expecting it when he felt her elbow jab gently into his ribs. They tussled for a few more seconds until the two of them were almost breathless.

"Ok, ok, quit it, quit it, I'm being _so_ unprofessional..." Nina finally said as she broke the embrace, laughing so hard she was almost coughing, "Holy crap I'm dying".

Greg's brown eyes were nearly bugging out of his head they were so bright, and he was more pumped up than he had been in awhile. Maybe even more pumped up than he had been since he was twenty-three.

"How you _been _Sorrensen? How the hell did you end up here? I figured you were over in Africa bringing crime fighting technology to the masses!" Greg told her with awe, giving her a gentle kick with the tip of his sneaker.

"Oh god no, that venture completely imploded. I was only there for a little under a year when it all blew up. Our funding was cut, stolen, burned, pilfered, and every other damn thing. We really shouldn't have even _been_ there, the hippies in charge made such a mess of it. I decided to use my organic chemistry powers to help with the study of ice cores instead, did that for a couple of years, _then_..." Nina trailed off as she caught sight of a clock on the wall.

"Then what? Married? Kids? Did you spawn the army of little baby ninjas you always wanted?" Greg asked, folding his arms over his chest with anticipation.

Nina laughed aloud, but then her beaming smile softened into a wistful sort of grin.

"That is one long story gregarious Sanders, and I need _food_. Where the hell is that break room again?"

Greg ushered Nina into the hall, exchanging jocular slaps with her as he showed her to the break room. He pointed out all the other locations of interest as they went, something Nina thanked him for as he was the first to formally do so for her. Once they arrived, Nina was off like a shot toward the refrigerator.

She eagerly retrieved a small plastic container from it, loosening the lid before popping it into the microwave. She snagged a plastic spork, followed by a small apple and an orange. She dropped it all down on the table, followed by a large bottle of water from the beverage fridge.

"I'm so hungry I could eat the whole Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man _and_ still have room to devour the rest of his family" Nina said with conviction, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet as she watched her food spinning inside the microwave.

Greg opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out straight away. He needed a moment to consider the little picture she had just painted inside his head, and another moment to prevent himself from trying to understand her logic. He got the general point so he just accepted it, remembering it was just something you had to do with a lot of things that came out of Sorrensen's mouth.

"So tell me what you've been doing! You're out in the field now? I couldn't imagine leaving this lab if I had a permanent position, this place is _off the hook_" cooed Nina, swiping her food out of the microwave and sitting down, kicking out the chair across from her for Greg to claim.

"This lab _is_ off the hook, I won't argue with that, but you know me. I need a constant stream of new stimulation to maintain optimum satisfaction levels. I did my thing over in DNA, layin' it down, knockin' it out. But now I need more _action_" Greg explained as he sat down with his patented '_it ain't no big thang_' shrug of the shoulders.

Nina stabbed a ravioli with her spork and smirked as she brought it into her mouth, narrowing her eyes with a somewhat smoky expression in Greg's direction as she chewed.

"Good to see the boy genius hasn't lost his ambition" she said.

"Not one bit" responded Greg, putting his feet up on an empty chair, clasping his hands behind his head, and wiggling his eyebrows for good measure.

"No seriously, it's cool you're a field agent. I never would have imagined you'd go out for that, but when I think about that it makes perfect sense really. You _were_ becoming mister thrill junkie senior year" Nina said conversationally as she plowed through her pasta.

"I'm still a thrill junkie, though I'd say more so with the ladies than extreme sports these days" Greg boasted, not knowing where the burst of cockiness had come from but not giving much of a crap.

"_Siiiiick_" Nina said, scrunching her nose as she let out a whispery laugh from her throat, "You know what I mean though, I'm glad you're finally embracing your Clark Kent side instead of staying Jimmy Olsen your whole life"

Greg was only half listening as he sat remembering some of the senior year thrills. He fondly recalled how he'd gotten the hang of wakeboarding ten times faster than she had when they first tried it with the rest of the SCLB, and how he had gone ahead to try a bungee jump when she was too scared.

His face was beginning to hurt from all the constant grinning.

_"_Damn you look _different_ Sorrensen!" he said impulsively, indicating her hair by flicking a wisp of it with his fingertip.

"Yeah really. I had to quit my hair dye addiction when I decided to do the whole 'serious career' thing. I see you're still getting your color in a bottle though, attention whore" she responded with a wry smile, placing her free hand atop Greg's bleached tips to give his hair a brief muss.

Greg laughed as he straightened it back out.

"A man's gotta keep himself pretty. You could dye yours again if you want, around here they don't care what you look like as long as you get the job done. One of our fingerprint guys has a toxic avenger green _mullet_" Greg informed her with a peculiar sort of pride.

"Oh don't _even_ tempt me mister, my scalp is only just now recovering from all the abuse I heaped on it" Nina said with a roll of her eyes, dropping her head back to take a few giant chugs from her water bottle.

"So you never told me, how _did _you end up here? I thought you wanted to buck the trend in your family and stay out of law enforcement?" asked Greg with genuine curiosity, leaning back in his chair with arm outstretched to grab a ginger ale from the fridge.

"Ha, yeah, fat chance. Should've been a foregone conclusion now that I think about it, you know how my Dad is. When all my philanthropic adventures crapped out I moved to Yuma and took a couple jobs on organic farms, at this cosmetics company, yadda yadda. It just _wasn't_ working. Then Dad helped hook me up with the trace tech gig at the crime lab there. I friggin' hate saying it, but right on my first day I knew it just fit for me, so I stopped fighting _the call_. C'est La Vie, that's what happens when you grow up in police stations I guess" Nina shrugged, taking a bite of her apple between bites of ravioli.

"But how did you end up _here_?" pushed Greg, repressing a belch from the fizzy soda as he absent mindedly folded the pages on an abandoned magazine.

"Dude chill, I'm almost there" Nina chided him, shaking her head as she yanked four napkins out of the holder to wipe her face, "I needed a change, and you know Alicia from swing shift here? She's a friend of mine, told me about the temp position and I just said _hell with it_, why not give Vegas a try. It's closer to my Dad and brother anyway and seriously, did I mention this place is off the hook? The people here are _amazing_, even if I only work here a week I'll feel like I have bragging rights for the rest of my life"

Greg remembered feeling similar things when he first landed the job in DNA, back when he was the fresh faced newbie earning his stripes. He had come a long way since then, now he felt like he was just as much a part of the crime lab as its very walls were. He felt a strong sense of pride knowing he was a permanent fixture in a place Sorrensen was praising so highly.

He also felt a latent sensation of triumph over her, one he enjoyed but did not mention aloud.

"Yeah, you can go home tonight and tell all your friends that you got to go over lists of pager numbers with the one and only _David Hodges_" Greg pointed out in a monotone voice, raising his hands to shake them all around in a gesture of mock excitement.

Nina almost choked on the water she was trying to sip, covering her mouth to keep it in as she looked at Greg with guilty amusement.

"No, no! I love that guy! I totally do! He's really okay, he's just--"

"A jackass?"

"No! Just, y'know..._loquacious_"

"Well you two should get along just fine then" Greg cracked, coming upon the last half of cookie in his pocket and pulling it out for a munch.

Nina kicked at Greg under the table, narrowing her eyes at him again as she watched him eating the treat she had made with her very own hands.

"So you did manage to get some of my biscotti before it disappeared" Nina observed, leaning back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yeah, I almost forgot how good you make these" Greg marveled, again taking small bites to make it last.

"Well, I had to break in my new oven and just thought I'd share, even if it might look like _ass kissing_ to _some people_" Nina told him, raising a dark eyebrow as she threw Greg a decidedly haughty smirk.

Greg's jaw stopped moving immediately when he replayed the words she had just spoken, screwing his eyes shut with a sigh as he remembered a certain exchange in the locker room hours earlier.

_"Friggin' Hodges"_ he grumbled, shaking his head with fantasies of revenge percolating in his mind.

"Speaking of ass kissing, you should've seen the exotic dance I did for Mr. Grissom when I reported for shift. Knocked his _socks_ off. Later on I'm gonna wash Mr. Ecklie's car in my underwear in the front parking lot, you should check it out" Nina teased with good natured sarcasm.

Greg narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're hilarious" he deadpanned.

"Straight up" Nina replied with an upward nudge of her chin in Greg's direction.

Greg made a face at her, stopping just short of sticking out his tongue.

"Look, I didn't actually _say_ you were a kiss-ass, I just said I thought bringing in homemade cookies sounded _like_ ass kissing. I never passed a final judgment" he informed her, thinking about his brief conversation about her with Nick Stokes. Certain phrases such as _'that girl could yak'_, and _'human steamroller'_ jumped out at him and he hoped to god that hadn't gotten back to her too.

"I'm not _mad_ Sanders, I think it's funny" Nina shrugged, squeezing some oil out of an orange peel to rub between her wrists.

"I'm just saying I'm not going around spreading rumors about you or anything like that..." Greg said trying to cover his ass, remembering some particularly vivid Stanford stories involving him that sent a chill of paranoia up his spine, "Did _you_ tell anybody anything? I mean, about me?"

Nina regarded him with a bemused expression.

Then she got a devilish glint in her angelic eyes.

"Not really, but I did pass around a few photos of you dressed up like Courtney Love at the fresher cabaret, didn't you see them on the bulletin board?"

Greg's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, his jaw almost coming unhinged with how low it hung into his chest.

"Are you serious?!?" he asked in a harsh whisper, posing to leap to his feet for a beeline to the bulletin boards if she were to confirm.

She rolled her big eyes, looking at him with pity.

"No" she said simply, rising to drop her garbage in the bin, "Jeez Sanders, whad'ya take me for? I mean, I'm not saying I'd _never_ do that, I'm just saying you should know better than to think I'd do that my _first week._ Besides, I didn't even know you worked here until a few hours ago, _duh_"

Greg sighed, eyeing her intensely behind her back. It was one of the reasons he felt dubious about her return into his personal space. He wasn't the same Greg Sanders he had been, he was proud of the strides he had made since college and didn't want anyone holding him to the image of who he used to be. He worked hard to be taken seriously, and he was making enough mistakes of his own without any outside forces screwing it up.

In addition, he thought of certain instances where he might have stretched the truth about his past when he shared it with his colleagues, and it was not pleasant to think there was someone around to confirm or deny should anyone get the urge to play fact checker.

"Just, keep a lid on all that stuff huh? I mean, it's cool talking to _you_ about it, and some stories would be cool to tell the rest of these guys but, y'know, some of them I'd rather just keep on the down low around here" Greg told her, pushing at his cuticles with the edge of his fingernails.

"God you're still a baby. Don't worry, I won't embarrass you with your _crew_. Tell ya what, if I ever get the urge to tell someone a story, I'll have _my _PR guy get in touch with _your_ PR guy and we'll come up with a press release that works for everybody. Okie doke?" she asked as if it was the simplest thing in the world, rinsing her container in the sink with a giggle.

Greg felt his mood officially swinging, and he looked down at his watch to see his break time was pretty much up. He watched Nina at the sink, his head was still shuffling around countless great memories with her but now there also came a series of flashbacks that made him remember how much of knack she had for getting on his nerves. To think of her set loose in the lab without him being able to keep an eye on her at all times set off a shudder of discomfort in his gut.

"Just be cool" was all he could think to say.

"I _heaaaared yoooou"_ she responded airily.

Greg couldn't see her face clearly, but he knew damn well she was rolling her eyes at him again.

He was officially finished.

"Look, I gotta get back to work, it was good catching up but--"

"Hey, where can I check my email? There a computer room I can use or something?" she interjected, completely ignoring his change in demeanor.

"Down the hall to the right" He answered, leading her over to the door to show her with a point of his finger.

"Gracias! So you wanna get coffee later? Hodges said there's some diner near here? We gotta catch up more, you've gotta tell me all about your field adventures and tell me where the hell to go in this town to get decent fish tacos" Nina rambled, hugging her container to her chest like it was a teddy bear.

Greg relaxed his posture, resting his back against the doorjamb while flicking some lint off the sleeves of his coat.

"The diner? That's the place the field team goes after shift, you know, it's mainly a hang out for the CSIs and the uniforms. Like that doughnut joint you said your Dad always used to go to with his buddies? It's like that, it's really not a lab rat sorta place" he informed her, looking around as if he had other things to do.

Nina turned her head up to face him, looking him straight in the eyes as if she could see right through him. A soft slyness spread over her face, a glow of recognition in her crystal eyes saying she understood him perfectly.

"_I see._ Well, is there some _other_ place we could hang out to chat? Somewhere more lab rat friendly?" she asked, blinking her eyelids in slow motion.

Greg shrugged.

"Gotta see what's doing after work, never know where I'm gonna be. Y'know, it's just like that these days. But I'll page you if I can make it happen" he told her, averting his eyes to a particularly shapely legal eagle who was making her way past them in a figure hugging three piece pantsuit.

"I don't have a pager yet. Tell you what, if you can hang just come find me in trace after shift end. If not, well, I'll see ya tomorrow" she said with purposeful cheer, mussing up his hair one more time before walking off down the hall with a spring in her step. She tossed her head as she turned back in his direction briefly, waving with a sneaky sort of sparkle glittering on her face.

Then she was gone.


	7. 07 Bad Mood, Worse Mood

"Now you're too quiet, it's kind of scaring me" Mia remarked out of the silence in the DNA lab, organizing all the evidence that would be needing attention once the dayshift tech arrived.

"Mmnngh" Greg replied, his eyebrows furrowed with an intent stare as he clipped a limp looking bus pass to run DNA from the massive amounts of sweat dried all over it.

"I forgot to tell you, Grissom stopped in while you were on break before, said he wants you to drop by his office before you leave" she informed him, jogging a stack of papers on the table and carefully placing them on the freshly cleaned counter by the entrance.

"Mmhgh-hmm" was all he said, content to lose himself in the comfort that repetitive processing procedures could offer his mind.

He had half an hour left to go, with plans to treat himself to a psyche cleansing marathon of Ren & Stimpy cartoons if he succeeded in kicking out at least 75% of the stuff leftover from swing shift by the time he went home.

He felt like smoke might start coming out of his ears on account of how furiously he was trying to shuffle thoughts around inside it. He didn't like any of them, they were the sorts of thoughts that made him look into mirrors akin to those found in a fun house. They took the image of himself he liked the most and then twisted it into endless unflattering shapes until he started forgetting what the original incarnation of himself actually looked like.

He hated that.

He thought of that time he almost forgot to glove up before handling a bowie knife that had been tossed by a suspect. He thought of how he'd subsequently uncovered hidden traces of blood between the grooves of the handle. He thought of how everyone had more to say about him almost forgetting to glove up rather than how shrewd he'd been about evidence collection in the end.

He thought of that time in Stanford when he was showing his parents the complicated models of mutated Palm Tree genetics he'd painstakingly put together over the course of a week of sleepless nights. He thought of how they hadn't even gotten a chance to say much of anything before Sorrensen walked in the presentation room with her cheesy cartoon illustrations depicting the evolution of citrus diseases from the dark ages to the present. How his mother had used the word 'fascinating' to describe his work, how she'd used the word 'wonderful' to describe Sorrensen's, and how much Sorrensen's big pixie smile about the whole thing made him want to sock her upside the head with a pillow right then and there.

As Greg watched the DNA particles of his sample being coaxed out of their hiding places within the test tube at his fingertip, he couldn't wait to forget all about that entire day and sleep until he found himself walking through the next one. He did his best to block out everything around him but his work; from ignoring the cleaning guy collecting biohazard behind him to drowning out the sound of Ecklie yelling from somewhere down the hall. His brain felt swollen inside his skull, the overload dumped into his frontal lobes making his powers of clarity feel suffocated. His sinuses felt stuffed up too, a definite sign he was thinking too much. He stuck to the repetition, the sweet waves of instinct that he could surf all the way home.

"What are you muttering about? Who's a pain in your ass? Me?" Mia asked on the defensive, looking at Greg with hardness in her brown eyes as she laid out a set of sanitized utensils.

"What? No, not at all. I meant...other people" Greg told her, unable to recall himself saying such a thing out loud even though somehow he knew he definitely had.

"Grissom?" She inquired, her features softening again.

"Nah. I don't know who I meant. I don't even care" Greg replied as best he could, not wanting to do so much of the talking as much as he wanted some quiet time inside his head.

Mia took off her lab coat and folded it over her arm, taking a thin stack of reports awaiting distribution in her hands as she did so. She checked them all over one last time, and turned to Greg before exiting.

"Well, if you don't want to end up in here again tomorrow, it's probably a good idea to get all of your sleep before you come in" she said with a low key sort of shine upon her brow, "Thanks for your help today Greg, it made a huge difference. I'll see you later"

"Later" Greg gave reply, looking up only to see she hadn't even waited for it.

He had the lab to himself, and so he took the opportunity to swear freely. It felt good to gripe as much as he wanted without the judgment of others around to dampen the experience. He felt there was finally enough room to feel completely put upon, a past time he enjoyed immensely when the timing was just right.

He should have known it wouldn't last.

"Hey dog, you pull anything usable off that bus pass?" Warrick asked congenially as he strode into the room with Catherine not far behind him.

"And I need the results from the tissue I collected at my four-nineteen" Catherine informed him, sighing a very tired sigh as she sat down opposite him.

"One...at...a...time" Greg said, almost through his teeth, "Warrick, I'm running it right now. Catherine, I think Mia just went looking for you with your results".

"I missed her? Awe damn! I'm breaking in these shoes and they're killing me" Catherine said, reaching down to massage her ankles.

"Ah, don't worry about it Cath, it'll be on your desk waiting for you. Cool those heels" Warrick told her with a wink, making his way past Greg to grab the seat beside him.

Greg clenched his jaw, his eyes so intently focused on the small glass beaker in front of him it appeared he might be trying to make the thing explode with his mind.

He only had twenty-one minutes left to go.

"This is just like old times, you sitting over here running our DNA. Only thing missing is the Marilyn Manson..." cracked Warrick with a hearty laugh, "You're not getting tired are you? I think all the couches are full".

Catherine let out a chuckle along with Warrick, both of them looking to Greg for a smile of his own. Greg stretched his mouth out so wide his lips were almost posed to tear, his big grill of white teeth fully exposed. He regarded Warrick with his grin, then he made a stiff turn of his head so Catherine got a glimpse. Then in one fluid motion he relaxed his entire face and averted his eyes directly back to his beaker.

"Awe c'mon Greg, we're only teasing. Still, I have to say I really could've used your eyes today. And your hands, there was so much damn trace. I missed ya out there!" said Catherine, trying to get Greg to look her in the eye but failing.

"Yeah, trace better get its act together, or I should say Hodges better get his act together, between your motel stuff and our stuff from the restaurant, that's enough to keep ten trace techs busy for a week" Warrick told Catherine rather gruffly, moving out of the way as Greg shimmied over to the fridge to store the prepared blood sample.

"Weren't you supposed to go down there to lend a hand today Greg? I think Hodges was too busy playing guru with the new temp to get much done. I heard she's an old friend of yours?" Catherine inquired.

Greg kept his back toward the both of them, staring down the clock overhead. The hands on the clock seemed to have developed arthritis with how painfully slow they were moving. He was sure there was some way to stay out of the conversation, he just had to think of it.

"Greg?" called Warrick and Catherine in perfect unison.

"Mmh-hm" he responded, grimacing as he strolled over to make doubly sure he documented everything he needed to on the chain-of-custody sheets.

"So? What's the story? Nick said you two were at Stanford together?" Catherine asked conversationally as she examined her newly manicured fingernails.

"Oh really? Old flame Greggo?" Warrick asked with a brash sort of curiosity.

"Well, I heard it was more like old rivals. Is that true Greg?" Catherine threw in.

"What? Who said that? Nick said that? Wait, I don't even care. It doesn't matter" Greg half-snapped, huffing a little as he tossed a bunch of utensils into the sterilization unit.

"That poor girl, when I was down there Hodges wasn't even letting her touch the GCMS let alone process anything" Catherine told Warrick, keeping out of Greg's way as he meandered impatiently around the room.

"Awe Greg, you gotta take better care of your people. Shoulda gone down there and leant her a hand, not left her flapping in the wind at the mercy of David Hodges" Warrick reprimanded him affably.

"I did" Greg blurted out through his tight jaw, feeling a great urge to fling a scalpel right into the center of the wall clock.

"Gil says she has a puh-ritty impressive record, that might be why Hodges is a little intimidated by her. No phi beta kappa like you Greg, but Gil seems pretty confident she can handle the pace without needing a babysitter" Catherine said to both men, though only one seemed interested in her remarks.

"Well you know me, I'll believe it when I see it. I don't how she is on the mass-spec but that girl could probably dance circles around Betty Crocker. Did you try that biscotti she brought in? I'm not one for sweet stuff but I had about four of those things, they were that good" Warrick said, patting his stomach as he stood beside the printer idly glancing at results from other open cases.

Greg pressed his fingers into his temples, screwing his eyes shut so tight he saw stars behind his lids.

"No, I missed that! I miss everything good around here when I'm on a solo. I'm hungry too, after this you want to get out of here and hit Frank's? It's on me" said Catherine, getting back on her feet with tentative steps, wincing just a little when she stepped down in her shoes.

"Sounds like a plan. What about you Greg? You in?" asked Warrick, eagerly pulling the results on his sample before Greg could even get near them.

Greg sighed dramatically, ignoring Warrick's question outright. He stood with his hand out waiting for Warrick to pass him the read-out, but Warrick seemed to be ignoring him too.

"Yeah Greg, you can bring your friend, tell us all some stories about your Stanford days. She's welcome to come" Catherine said with a brightened face as she leaned against the doorjamb at the entrance.

"Unless you need to catch up on more beauty rest" Warrick joked without even looking up.

Upon hearing the both of them laugh together at his expense for the second time in one visit, Greg's impulses took over and he snatched the read-out from Warrick's hands. He stomped over to the counter to interpret the results in the interest of documenting it as fast as was humanly possible.

"No, sorry, I made big plans to slam my head in the refrigerator door all night, I've been looking forward to it all day so I'm not backing out now. Seriously though, have lots of fun. Really, you've earned it. And hey, you wanna bring Sorrensen along I'm sure she'd jump at the chance. She can tell you all about what a pimple faced little overachiever I was, and how I didn't make out with half as many girls as I said I did. Lots of stories you can pass around at the Christmas party, ok?" Greg rattled without restraint, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his lab coat as he furiously shuffled lab reports into their respective case jackets.

Warrick and Catherine both stood speechless, their mouths hung open just the slightest bit as they beheld the sight of Greg practically tearing the sleeves of his lab coat as he yanked it off his body.

"Greg, look, we---" Catherine began, pulling her head back with a jerk as Greg cut her off.

"Oh I know, you were just kidding around. It's fine, it really is fine. I dish it out and I have to learn to take it, right? I can't climb the mountain without conquering the foothills first, those who don't learn from the past are condemned to repeat it, Confucius say man who nap through start of shift wake up shafted, right? It's cool, it really is. No sweat" Greg responded, stacking his files neatly in the holder beside the door.

He handed Warrick his case file, snapped off his gloves, slammed them into the bin, and hurried past Catherine into the hall. He was about to walk off when Catherine caught him by the sleeve.

"Yes?" Greg asked with a maniacal sort of look in his brown eyes, his frighteningly huge grin plastered across his face.

"Nothing just....Grissom wanted to see you before you left" Catherine said, making a face like she'd just stubbed her toe, averting her eyes from Greg's crazy gaze.

Greg gave her a gentle slap to her shoulder.

"Fantastic" he replied with vigor.

He stomped off toward the locker room as Warrick and Catherine both ogled him from the doorway. Warrick shook his head from side to side in slow motion while Catherine raised her thin red eyebrows. They exchanged looks of astonishment, Warrick releasing a muted whistle through pursed lips. They both crept slowly out of the doorway of the lab as if they expected the floor tiles to explode, stiffening immediately when they saw Greg turn to approach them once more.

"By the way, if you do take Sorrensen and she tells you the story about the exploding pizza, I want you to know right now that I didn't _blind_ Professor Morgan. After the effects of the flash wore off he was _fine_ " Greg informed them, not even waiting for a response.


	8. 08 Grissom's Advice

Greg didn't even knock, he just walked right in and flopped down in one of the chairs facing Grissom's desk. He didn't say a word at first, he just sat there with his arms hanging over either side of his chair, rolling his head around upon his neck while simultaneously rolling his eyes around in his head. He looked around at all the different tanks containing insects and plant life, making popping sounds through his lips as he did so. After a good fifteen seconds of that, he rolled his head front and center to face Grissom with a very zombified expression.

"Long day?" Grissom asked, putting down his crossword puzzle and removing his glasses.

"Ch'yeah" Greg responded, wiping some sweat from his neck.

"So I take it you didn't like being back in the lab today?" asked Grissom, tapping his desk with his pen.

Greg looked at the face of his boss, wondering for the first time what Grissom had called him in for. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that the worst thing he could do at that particular moment was give him an attitude. He made plans to blast his emergency thrash metal CD in the car on his way home and do his best to keep his shit together until then.

"No, I think I can safely say I didn't" Greg told him honestly, keeping the whining inflections to a minimum.

Grissom nodded in acknowledgement, staring off a little with contemplation in his blue eyes. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Greg straight on.

"Why not?" he asked.

Greg didn't know where to begin with that one. He knew it had started with being awakened by the sharp sound of a bell ringing in his ear, he knew it had gotten worse when Mia stonewalled both his processing methods as well as his attempts to win her over with playful humor. A lot of things happened after that, but Greg had kicked those thoughts to the recesses of his mind for the most part.

He still wasn't sure how to answer, he figured he'd open his mouth and see what came out.

"Because..." He began with a frustrated sort of shrug, "Because I want to be out in the field, not processing evidence all day"

"And? What else?" asked Grissom, listening intently as he leaned back in his chair.

"What else? Well, I _thought_ the team was on board with me as a CSI but I guess not since they still talk to me like I'm a wannabe. Like I don't get how bad I screwed up this morning without them telling me every five minutes? I _know_. If I want to be a field agent, I've gotta start _acting_ like one. I know that. I mean, how do they not know I know that?" rambled Greg, absent mindedly pulling at the chunky felt letters on his T-shirt until he ripped two of them clean off.

"I don't know" Grissom told him with a shrug and a half smile.

"I mean, I'm not trying to say I'm above reproach, that's not it at all. I'm just saying I think I deserve a little bit more respect than _that_. If I learned anything today it's that I'm _past_ the lab rat thing but I'm not a field mouse yet. It just...._sucks_" Greg finished, rolling the felt letters from his shirt between his fingers.

"Good" Grissom responded with satisfaction, grabbing a napkin containing a lump of tuna fish salad and crossing the room to dump it into the tank with his beloved hissing cockroaches.

Greg snarled just the tiniest bit behind Grissom's back, but kept his face neutral when he turned toward his desk again.

"Good?" he asked, feeling smacked in the head.

"Yes, very good. It means you really are serious about being in the field" Grissom told him succinctly.

"Of course I am. Did you really doubt that?" Greg asked with true interest, crumpling the letters from his shirt and shoving them into his pocket.

"Just a little. I've seen it before. Techs will leave the lab for the field only to turn right back around once they reach level three. I just wanted to see if the field is what _you_ really wanted. Seems it is, or else you would've been more than happy processing all day and it wouldn't have _sucked_ so badly" Grissom explained, tracing a circle on his desk calendar in red ink to highlight his next gig as guest lecturer down at LVU.

Greg tossed it all around in his head, letting Grissom's logic travel through his recollections of the day just passed. Greg made pains not to betray anything on his face, but he felt instantly self conscious when he realized just how much of him really _did_ miss the lab and the innate security within in. He was hard pressed to remember a time when he _wasn't_ holed up in a lab somewhere, doing straight science in sterile environments. He could've sworn he was born in one.

He thought of how often he picked on Hodges for being a chicken who was afraid of working outside the lab almost as much as he was afraid of living life outside his mother's house. Greg felt a sting at the back of brain when he realized he probably harbored some of those very same kinds of fears himself, even if they were lesser in severity.

From the day he had stepped into his first classroom as a small child to the day he got the job in the crime lab, Greg had been ahead of the game. He had been gifted, he had been exceptionally intelligent, he had collected more awards and trophies than he'd known what to do with. Inside the walls of the lab, Greg's ego had been insulated by the cushions of easy achievement. Out on the streets of Las Vegas, Greg's ego was exposed to harsh elements it had never known before.

It was one of the few times in his entire life when he wasn't sure if he was going to succeed.

"When did you _know_ you wanted to be a CSI?" Greg spontaneously asked, the dull ache in his head turning into full on throbbing.

"When I realized that my love of entomology could be applied toward a good I thought was greater than merely teaching in a classroom. When I realized how much I needed a purpose more than just a job" Grissom told him without hesitation.

Greg digested that bit of information, but found he wanted a bit more.

"But when you started, did you _know_ that was your purpose or were you just _pretty sure_?"

Grissom reclined even further back in his chair, looking almost wistful.

"Neither, and I still don't _know_. I'm getting closer to being pretty sure though" Grissom drolly replied, folding his hands over his lap.

Greg thought Grissom's words might be profound, but he wasn't completely sure. He knew there was some deeper meaning than the obvious, but it wasn't coming to him clearly.

"Huh?" he said.

"What was that dream you had earlier? You were unraveling all the mysteries of human genetics, finding out the cause of every disease affecting mankind, but you didn't have a pen to write it all down? Everything we do is a risk even if it doesn't seem like it, whether it's a new station in life or just trying a new brand of coffee. We never know which choices or occurrences in our lives are going to change everything, we just drift towards what we feel is right for us. We will never know the answers to all the mysteries that come our way, all we can do is make sure we have a pen to write down all the clues which point us in the direction we want to go" Grissom said.

A silence came over the office after Grissom's little speech, his words seeming to hang in the air for awhile before sweeping into Greg's consciousness.

Once they did, he felt like his head was finally going to explode.

"So that's your advice? Always have a pen?" Greg asked in a slightly disappointed tone of voice.

"More or less, yes" Grissom responded, seemingly pleased at Greg's apparent confusion.

"Ok, whatever..." Greg grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as if it were made of fiberglass, "Is that all?"

"I think so. You really helped in the lab today Greg and I appreciate it. The field will be waiting for you tomorrow. Don't forget to clock out" Grissom concluded, tucking some case files beneath his arm as he rose to his feet, giving Greg a pat on the shoulder as he exited the office.

Greg exhaled with an obnoxious sort of groan, snagging a tissue off Grissom's desk to wipe his runny nose. He tried clearing his mind so there was space for his boss's words to penetrate, but things were just too muddy. He added the speech to the mental storage bin of things he needed to think harder about later, and got on his feet.

He stood at the threshold of the office watching as Nick, Sara, Warrick, and Catherine gathered near the hallway toward reception. They were laughing together as they traded gripes about their respective cases and traded imitations of particularly troublesome witnesses down in PD. Greg wondered if they might look for him, but as soon as Catherine finished slipping on her pair of comfortable canvas sneakers, they were off to the front doors without so much as a glance backward.

Greg sighed, kicking weakly at the small garbage pail next to the doorway.

His head hung down as he shuffled past the members of the incoming dayshift crew, he made no eye contact as he clocked out, and he made no eye contact as he entered the locker room.

Through the open grating in the windows above, Greg could feel the chill of the air outside as he hung up his lab coat. He retrieved his favorite gray hoodie and put it on, followed by his short overcoat. He ignored the chipper conversations being had by the dayshift people around him, feeling like he was already falling asleep only very slowly. He trudged into the hall, and as he stepped outside the front doors he saw Hodges, Mandy, and Henry running across the street with linked arms in the direction of a juice bar, laughing all the way.

Greg spied the heavy steel trash can standing by the brick wall outside, and he kicked it. He kicked it hard.

He watched the skies above Las Vegas beginning to glow an eerie blue with the first approach of the sun, and he thought he had never felt so cold. Greg watched his breath form wisps of condensation in the air in front of him, and he stared at the reflections of the lights upon the wet asphalt in the parking lot. The sounds of cars speeding down the highway fell deep down into background noise until all Greg could hear was pregnant silence.

He started wondering how on earth he got there.

Greg turned for a moment to peer back into the lab, feeling like something was missing. He had the keen sensation that there was something he forgot to do. He checked items off lists inside his head, one by one he went through all the tasks he needed to accomplish before he could go. He had documented all the evidence he had processed, filled in the chain-of-custody sheets, and left instructions for the techs who would be handling the stuff he didn't get a chance to work on. He had cleaned his work station, he had put everything in the sterilizer, he had reported to Grissom before shift end. He'd done it all.

Still, something was missing.

He was tempted to retrace his steps inside the lab but he was so eager for relaxation, food, and gratuitously violent cartoons that he couldn't go back in. He shook it off, and started toward his car. He was just about to clear the walkway when he spied a figure sitting on a bench beneath the white glimmer of the parking lot lights.

She was by herself, with a tissue in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and she was crying.

Then it all came back to him.


	9. 09 As The Sun Rises

"Shiiiiiiiiiit" Greg whispered harshly to himself, wanting to run over to Nina and run to his car in the same instant.

He wrung out his hands as he stood from his vantage point unobserved by her, bouncing on the rubber soles of his sneakers as he decided what to do. For a few moments he thought he'd made definite plans to have coffee with her, but then he remembered that hadn't exactly been the case. She had said to come find her if he could hang out, but if he couldn't she'd just see him later. He didn't think he was in any shape to console anybody, so this was his justification as he crept out of the lights toward his waiting automobile.

"Shiiiiit, shit, _shit_" he kept repeating under his breath as he ducked down between cars, feeling his conscience running his already sore brain through a blender. He kneeling next to the door of his car and forcing himself to shove the key into the lock when guilt hit him in the chest with a wallop. Greg slammed his head lightly against his little Volkswagen, wanting the refuge of his apartment but knowing there was really only one thing he could do.

"Damn it" he said, shoving his keys back into his pocket as he crept right back the way he had come.

He stayed behind the cover of trees at first, trying to get a better idea of how upset she actually was. He still had a catalog of her facial expressions stored in his head from years before, though many were now lost or too blurry to see. Her upset faces were still vivid; there were the ones she made when she was hurt but not devastated, the ones she made when she was just frustrated, the ones she made when she was just being a whiny brat, and then the one she made when something was really getting to her. He studied her from his hiding place, realizing quickly that something was very wrong.

Her eyes were enormous where they were usually just plain old big, they were glossy and gazing up at the stars as if looking for some kind of sign. She wore a camel coat which appeared to be on the well worn side, her dark hair a stark contrast to the red beret laying crookedly atop her head. The seat of the bench was deep, and so she had her knees pulled up to her chest as she smoked.

Greg clearly imagined himself sitting down beside her with a comforting hug that might solve everything, and he could visualize himself waking from his pounding mental stupor to find the perfect words to make everything right. He was counting on all of this, that's why he was a little taken aback by the phrase that actually made its way out of his mouth when he finally approached her.

"How can you be a chemist and still do that?" Greg blurted into the night air.

Her head turned toward him in one swift motion, her eyes perfect saucers, her pouty little lips parted just so.

Greg felt like a moron, and with the sum of the day's events it made perfect sense that of course he was.

He braced himself for the inevitable backlash he was sure to receive from her if history was a true predictor of future events. He waited for the cutting remark, the reprimand that would make him feel two inches tall, and the witty insult that would serve as the cherry on top.

Hence, he was surprised when all he got was silence.

Nina let her legs fall to the ground before her as she sucked another big drag off her cigarette, staring down at her feet as she exhaled.

"I only have like one a month now, maybe two. Maybe three if I'm really having a hard time. This is my fourth in a half hour. I'm a chemist with a selective memory, it's pretty handy sometimes" she told him, her voice almost soothing in its mildness.

She turned away as she sniffled, wiping her nose before turning back to Greg. He could plainly see she was trying to regain her composure, but he could not easily tell if she was doing it to save her own dignity or doing it for his benefit. Nina offered him a smile, one that seemed forced but no less warm.

He sat down beside her, hanging his left arm over the back of the bench and folding his left leg up so that he could face her. He felt the tendons at the base of his skull stop twitching so much, he felt the muscles in his shoulders relax. He was out in the field again, ready to tackle the investigation before him.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, prepared to explain himself in full should the answer turn out to be the fact he'd blown her off.

"I missed my friggin' bus, now I've gotta wait an hour for the next one" she said with some more sniffling, and some more puffing on her cigarette.

Greg hadn't assisted in an official interrogation yet, but he'd certainly watched enough cop shows to recognize when a suspect was not being forthright.

"Ok, not buying _that_, but nice try. What happened?" Greg asked, feeling a weird sense of relief having something besides his own crap to focus on.

Little crinkles formed in Nina's brow and right above her nose, her bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit as she tried maintaining a cool expression. She sniffled again, pressing her lips together hard as she did.

"Mr. Ecklie..." she said, looking down at her lap as if it had just done something to really piss her off, "I don't want to offend you or anything but the guy is kind of an asshole".

Greg smirked immediately.

"No offense taken. What did he do?"

Nina shook her head and gulped.

"Egh, Hodges finally let me start processing about a half hour before I had to clock out. I was in the lab by myself and this Gibbons guy from dayshift just storms in there wanting me to bump everything in the whole friggin' lab to run some trace off this stupid insurance fraud thing. Hodges said not to let anyone from days bump _anything_, and besides, back in Yuma we _neh-heh-hever_ bumped anything from violent crimes to deal with white collar crap like that..." Nina explained, looking directly at Greg as she bit down on her bottom lip.

"...So I refused to do it, he lectured me like I'm an idiot, and before I knew it he had Ecklie down there in my face. I had _no idea_ that Gibbons guy was his golden boy or whatever. Ecklie chewed me out in front of Hodges, in front of a whole bunch of the other techs. Threatened my job, the whole nine yards..." she recalled with two fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, "I think he _liked it_ too"

She shook her head, hiding her face behind her tissue as she wiped her eyes.

Without thinking twice, Greg placed his hand upon her shoulder and rubbed it firmly.

"Sorrensen, he _probably did_. I mean, the guy will come through when it hits the fan but he's generally just kind of a dick" he informed her.

"I noticed" she said.

"Seriously, don't sweat it. First of all, he _can't_ threaten your job because technically you're graveyard and that means Grissom's got your back. Griss wouldn't bump anything from violent crimes for any white collar garbage either. Second, think of this as a rite of passage. If Ecklie rips you a new one, it means you've truly arrived. He ripped you a new one your _first week_, I didn't get it until my third month here. You're ahead of the game" Greg reassured her with a tone suggesting he was very impressed.

"Yeah?" Nina asked with a tremble of gracious laughter.

"Yep" responded Greg, flashing her a megawatt smile.

She let out another trembling giggle which made Greg feel a welcome sense of gratification.

He gave Nina's shoulder a nudge with his fist in the style of Nick Stokes, and watched as she laughed with cherubic eyes. He thought he'd gotten the job done, but as she pulled her limp tissue up to her face Greg saw her begin to cry again. Her giggles turned into sobs, her neck looking like it had turned to jelly with the way her head fell.

He knew there was more to do on this particular case.

"So the only question left is, what _aren't_ you telling me? Don't try and lie either. I can still read you like the _periodic table_ lady" he said, leaning his head down so that he could catch her gaze in his, so that she would understand that he was serious.

"I haven't seen you in forever, I don't wanna dump on you" she told him without any false humility.

"Awe come on, everybody dumps on Sanders! Availability to be dumped on is actually in my job description" Greg said with good nature, hoping to make her laugh into submission.

"Sanders, I'm serious" she told him, almost in a whisper.

"So am I. Look at me..." Greg said, moving his head around to catch her eyes once more, "Come on, hit me with it short round"

There had been a great deal of nicknames tossed back and forth between the two of them during college, but certain names took precedence over others. Greg had called her 'short round' more than anything because it had served dual purposes; one being a term of endearment that suited her perfectly and the other a great way to push her buttons when he needed to. It was a classic, and one he threw into the conversation on the bench to remind her just who she was talking to.

Nina smiled at him with a chiding twinkle in her eye, covering her lips with the tips of her fingers. She screwed her eyes shut with another quiver in her mouth, inhaling sharply with a muted cry from her throat. She wiped her eyes once more, lit another cigarette, took a huge drag off of it, and sighed as she exhaled.

"I got an email, this notice of an outstanding debt I didn't even know I had. It's not actually even mine. I mean, it's on _my_ back but I didn't run it up, it belongs to my nematode of an ex-husband" she explained, taking another drag but lurching forward with an enormous cough.

Greg immediately gave her a whack on the back, taking liberty to snatch the cigarette from her hand and smash it out in the wet grass. She didn't even protest, she just slapped at her chest a few times before retrieving another tissue from her purple satchel of a purse.

"So you were married?" Greg couldn't help but ask once she had recovered.

"Affirmative. For three years..." Nina said, letting out a guilty sort of laugh, "And you'll never guess to who".

Greg was instantly intrigued.

"Who?" he asked with one eyebrow raised, anxious for the answer.

Nina took a deep breath, shooting Greg a decidedly dubious expression. She hung her head down a little, yanking a little at the buttons running up and down her cranberry colored shirt.

"Mendes" she answered, pulling her lips into her mouth, making a face reminiscent of a child preparing to get yelled at.

Greg was stunned.

"You married _Mendes?_ _Elliot 'Hot Shot' Mendes?_"

Nina nodded solemnly in confirmation.

"But you _hated_ him" Greg reminded her, recalling the man whose primary objective within the Stanford Chem Lab Brigade was access to those who could always front him term papers when he was too busy being a loudmouth alpha male to do them himself.

"Yeah, I know. Then we worked on that ice core thing together, then I loved him. I loved him _a lot_. I should've trusted my first instincts though, he really is just primordial ooze with a good haircut" Nina said regretfully.

"I coulda told you that" Greg told her with succinctness.

"Yeah, I bet you would have too..." she responded, hugging herself against the chilly wind, "...But you weren't there".

Instantaneous guilt leapt upon Greg's back when he heard her words. He could only imagine the kind of grief a guy like Elliot Mendes could visit upon _any_ woman within the bonds of marriage, let alone Nina. He wondered what else he'd missed, he thought of how senseless it seemed that he'd missed anything at all.

"Neen, I'm...I'm so sorry. I should have gotten off my ass and kept in touch" Greg told honestly, looking pained.

"Awe Greg, I didn't mean it like that. I know life got crazy after graduation, it does for everybody. I mean, I _was_ kinda pissed, but only for like a year. Then I got over it" Nina told him with a little bit of twinkle returning to the gold flecks in her eyes.

"I'm not pissed anymore" she added in something of a whisper.

They exchanged glances then, locking gazes for a few beats. Greg could hear her in his head, he understood her face. He knew her like he'd always known her, and he knew she was not lying to him.

"How bad is the debt?" he asked, retrieving a small box of sour apple pastilles from his interior pocket, popping one in his mouth and offering her some.

Nina blew some flyaway hairs out of her face before pushing them behind her ears, taking a piece of candy and letting out a laugh that was more frustration than it was mirth.

"Let's just say it's bad. I broke even before I left Arizona, now I'm in the hole again. I don't even have a damn car. I don't even have a permanent _job._ Alicia said she might leave the trace position in swing soon because she's trying to have a baby. I feel like such a prick face because I keep asking her if she's pregnant yet" Nina confessed with a fresh batch of tears.

Greg felt a laugh expand in his throat like a balloon upon hearing how serious she was using the term _prick face,_ but he repressed it for her benefit. Instead, he just put his arm over her shoulder and squeezed.

"Sorrensen, you're not a prick face. Look, I don't know if it'll help but when I came here, I was broke _as hell_. I didn't even tell my parents, I decided no more spoon feeding. My first apartment here was a real hole, I lived almost a whole year without hot water. I used to roll up with my gym bag before shift to take showers here. I mean, I used to sneak in and shower here before _dates_, and you should've seen some of the bargain bin stuff I was wearing" he recollected to her, rolling his eyes to emphasize just how bad his wardrobe had been.

"Now? Now I'm in the black. Nice digs, nice threads, halfway decent car that isn't a _total_ embarrassment. You're gonna be okay Neen, trust me. Positions open up _all the time_ on dayshift, and there's a bunch of pharmaceutical companies around if ya need something on the side. Lots of opportunities for a Stanford whiz kid like you. Serious, it's gonna be okay" he finished, giving her an encouraging little shake.

"Yeah?" she asked in a gentle voice.

"Hell yeah" he answered with a resolute nod.

Nina wiped her nose, staring out over the bright neon lights beaming on the horizon of hotels and casinos beyond the parking lot. Her eyes glossed over again but this time she was smiling, and smiling wide.

Then she looked at Greg and laughed.

"Damn I missed you Sanders" she said wholeheartedly, honking into her tissue.

Greg took a moment to stare over the same horizon, feeling as if he was seeing it for the very first time all over again. Nina's presence beside him brought back visceral memories of what it felt like to have a whole life of potential awaiting him. He meant every word he had told her, and he wondered why the same didn't still go for him too. Sitting there with his old college friend watching the bright lights of Las Vegas, Greg felt like it could easily be the day after graduation.

"I missed you too" he replied, giving her an easy smile.

"We have _sooo_ much to catch up on" Nina said, producing a raggedy multi-colored scarf from the interior pocket of her coat before winding it around her neck.

"No kidding. You married _Mendes_. You've _gotta_ break that one down for me with a play by play because it just defies logic" Greg told her without restraint.

Nina shot him a look which suggested she might not be all that interested in that particular idea.

"I mean, only if you're up to it. Only if you want to" Greg added quickly.

"I could talk about it, but I wanna hear about _you._ I mean, _look at you_ Sanders. Running around out there packin' heat and baggin' the crims! _That's_ what I wanna hear about" Nina told him, her voice losing the tremble and returning to its natural state of perk.

Greg looked slightly bashful at that, but he beamed all the same.

"Ha, I'm not packin' heat _just _yet. I'm still a long way off from firearms proficiency. Bobby Dawson won't even let me test fire anything yet..." Greg told her, feeling like the bench was suddenly molding to his body with how comfortable it became, "and I'm still pretty much a zygote as far as the team is concerned".

Nina screwed up her face at him, looking at him as if he was out of his mind.

"_Zygote? _Are you on crack? Once they found out I knew you they couldn't shut up about how awesome you are".

Greg pondered that for a moment with some surprise, placing another piece of candy on his tongue before dropping his arms across the back of the bench.

"You serious?" he asked.

"Yeah dude, I swear. Right before she left Ms. Willows said the DNA lab was pretty much _broken_ before you came here. That guy Stokes said you're like a wizard out there in the field with how fast you pick stuff up, and Miss Sidle just told me you're in line to be one of the best CSIs this crime lab has ever had. I wasn't kidding when I said they couldn't shut up about you, and let me tell you I don't think Hodges _liked thaaaaaat" _Nina recollected, turning to Greg with a cheeky conspiratorial smirk.

Greg could scarce believe what he'd just been told, and he might have accused her of lying had it not been for the slightly begrudging tone in her voice. If she'd been blowing smoke up his ass, she wouldn't have sounded so envious.

Greg was pleased, not to mention more than a little dumbfounded.

"They said all that?" he asked.

"Straight up. They know you're the business" she replied.

Greg threw it all around in his head, hearing the voices of his colleagues repeating everything Nina had told him. He sunk even further into the bench like melting butter when he thought of Sara saying he might become one of the best CSIs the Las Vegas crime lab had ever seen. He felt his doubt flying away from him, and he felt himself wishing it was the beginning of next shift so he could dive right back in.

"_Ahhhh_ I set you off, didn't I? Now you're gonna get all cocky" Nina said, snapping Greg awake from his thoughts.

Greg sat up and straightened his coat, giving a yank to both cuffs. He brushed off the front of his shirt, then he smoothed back his hair with a proud grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about" he said.

Nina rolled her eyes.

"_Riiiiight_. There are two things that will _never_ change about you Sanders. _Two things..._" Nina told him with certainty, holding two fingers up in front of Greg's eyes, "Those damn sideburns, and you getting cocky whenever you get a compliment or a good grade"

Greg laughed out loud.

"Shut up shorty" he teased, giving her a friendly shove.

"You shut up, you _soooo_ know I'm right. By the way, why aren't you out with your crew Mr. CSI? I just saw them heading over to that diner. Y'know, that joint that's _not a lab rat sorta place"_ Nina mocked him with an exaggerated impression of his voice.

Greg eyed her with a tight smile, causing her to let out a robust giggle. He was tempted to groan about his day, until he realized he had nothing left in his head to groan about. He thought briefly about telling her about his outburst in the DNA lab and subsequent refusal to get food with the team, but he was feeling too good to ruin it.

So he decided to lie instead.

"They asked me to come along but I wanted to hang with my old war buddy" Greg told her, rising to his feet and lending her a hand to rise herself.

"Ha, _war buddy_. I like it" Nina giggled as she took slow paces down the sidewalk beside him, buttoning up her coat against the cold.

"In honor of your arrival to the Las Vegas crime lab and in recognition of your first official reaming from Ecklie, I'm gonna let you in on one of this town's best kept secrets. It's a little malt shop at the edge of the strip called Sweet King Ray's and I'm treating _you_ to the ceremonial triple chocolate shake of welcome" Greg informed her, pulling her aside so she did not trip over a large crater in the concrete.

Nina let out a bellowing laugh which echoed across the parking lot and up into the sky above.

"That sounds _puuurfect_" Nina beamed with a flush of rose in her cheeks and a burst of excitement, "I wanna know _all_ the best kept secrets in this town! I mean ev-uh-ree-thing! And don't hold back! If you hold back I'll _know_ it. You totally know I'll know it"

Greg broke out with a hearty guffaw, unlocking the passenger side door of his car before heading over to the driver's side. He plopped down into his seat, hurriedly clearing the seat beside him of fast food wrappers, various receipts, a half eaten bag of jelly beans, and a broken pair of sunglasses. He brushed off the remaining crumbs and lint, then ushered Nina inside.

He gripped the steering wheel, his right hand hovering over the key in the ignition. He turned to her with an adventurous spark aflame in his eyes.

He wasn't tired anymore. He bright eyed, bushy tailed, and he was more than ready to show-off.

"You wanna see Vegas kid? I'll show ya Vegas" he told her, just like a rock star.

Nina clapped her hands, yanking the seatbelt across her chest and settling in like she was actually preparing to take flight.

"This is the shizz, this is such the shizz! I don't care about the touristy crap, show me _the money_" she instructed, flipping eagerly through his fat flip case full of CDs.

Nina gingerly slid a CD out from its sleeve and inserted it into the player, craning her neck to peer down the highway as if it couldn't approach fast enough. Greg heard the sounds of the Ska band Save Ferris come flooding over the speakers in the form of their tune, 'The World Is New'. He grinned from ear to ear, looking over at Nina to see she was grinning just as wide.

The car stood idling at the parking lot exit as Greg looked upon the city he had come to call home, the blazing red glow in the sky serving as the perfect backdrop for the glittering Stratosphere Tower in the distance. He thought of how intimidating it all had been at the beginning and wondered if Nina thought the same when she looked at it just then. There had been a time when he was not sure if he'd ever find his place in Las Vegas or if he was even meant to be there at all. He still wasn't completely sure he was going to be one of the best CSIs the crime lab had ever seen, but he knew he belonged there. For better or worse, for mistakes or for triumphs, in the lab or out on the streets; Greg Sanders belonged in Las Vegas.

He had experienced the very same epiphany several times before, but this time he was positive he would remember.

He pulled out on to the highway with a bursting need to show Nina everything. He didn't know if she would find her niche, he didn't know if she was going to stay or if she was going to go. All he knew was that he wanted to represent his city in welcoming her.

He didn't know exactly where to start, whether it would be better to show her all the hip music venues he frequented or whether it would make more of an impression to drive her past all the old structures that still remained from the heyday of old Las Vegas first.

There was so much he wanted her to see.

"There's this place called Gaslight about five minutes from here, _awesome_ sound for live bands and they don't screw you on the drink prices either. Right down that street over there is the house where Slim 'Six Guns' Marlowe got eight bullets in the chest for too much hanky-panky with Joey 'Fatso' Fagan's little woman. Oh, and I'll take you past this joint called Beach Bum Benny's. It looks like a dive and I guess it pretty much is but let me tell ya, _best_ fish tacos in Vegas" Greg informed her almost breathlessly, wishing more old friends would move into town so he could play tour guide.

"Wait, wait, slow your roll, I gotta get all this down..." Nina said, retrieving a small notepad with a Yuma police department cover from her purse.

"You got a pen?" she asked.

Greg smiled with contentment at that, using his free hand to reach into the interior pocket on his overcoat, feeling like he was definitely going in the right direction as he drove them both into the waiting sunrise.

"Yep, as a matter of fact I do" he said.


End file.
